


tumblr junk

by snoopypez



Category: Faking It (TV 2014), Glee, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, Fix-it fic, Gen, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Notfic, Pre-OT3, hints of stiles/malia/lydia and stiles/malia/scott
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:44:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2440622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoopypez/pseuds/snoopypez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>things originally posted on tumblr! mostly not!fic and prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. finn/kurt, CDs

"You _really_ have a lot of CDs.” 

"Yes, that’s the sixth time you’ve said so," Kurt says, clearly getting frustrated. "As much as I appreciate the reminder, could we move on?"

Finn feels like he could spend hours looking at them all, though. There are some surprising choices in the collection, but he’s not about to say so. Kurt’s pretty sensitive about stuff like that.

So instead, Finn says something just as stupid.

"I just always kinda pictured you with, I dunno, a record player or something."

There’s a pause, then Kurt says slowly, “Contrary to what you may think of this outfit, it’s actually _very_ modern, and I’m not a bank teller from the 1940’s. _Why_ would you think I’d have a record player?”

Finn shrugs. “I don’t know, it just seems like it’d be something you like. I mean, they’re old and weird…”

Oh, crap. Kurt’s already starting to look kind of pissed at that, so Finn continues quickly. 

"I mean, you’re not old or weird! Well, you’re kinda weird, I guess—but in a cool way! Stop glaring at me, man." _Awkward_. “They’re classy! Yeah, that’s what I meant. They’re kinda classic and…classy,” he finishes lamely. He should just leave now and pretend this never happened.

But instead of hitting him or using long sentences to confuse him even more, Kurt just smiles. Like maybe Finn gave the right answer after all.


	2. scott/stiles, episode tag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so imaginesciles said _So is anyone gonna write the thing where The Sheriff checks in on Stiles through the camera’s and catches him fucking Scott six ways from Sunday or what?_
> 
> and this happened:

sometime after things have calmed down a little or hopefully a lot, and he’s used to checking less and less because of it and because he may be sheriff but he likes his son to have _some_ privacy—but hey, it’s been a long, slow day and a long, slow lunch so why not make the video-rounds.

and everything looks good and safe and unbroken-into and he’s always weary when he gets to stiles’s room but surely nothing weird can be happening _now_ when there’s school and junk, right?? but no, there they are, stiles and scott, kissing.

and okay, they’re both fully dressed so that’s a good thing but holy crap they’re kissing dirty, filthy like it’s either the first time they’ve done it and they’re just desperate for it…or the millionth time they’ve done it and they’re pros. it’s the kind of kissing you reeeeally don’t want to watch _anyone_ do, least of all your own kid so yep, turning that off.

so he sends a text message to stiles, nice and casual, just hoping to distract them a little but minutes go by and there’s no reply. so of course morbid curiosity mixed with annoyance that they are _cutting school once more_ causes him to very hesitantly check back, maybe with fingers over his eyes—and he’s just going to look to see if stiles’s phone is visible and aha! there it is, lying on the bedside table, the text message light blinking away and being completely ignored. 

then he makes the mistake of actually looking at them again and HEY suddenly shirts are gone and scott’s hand is hidden between their bodies and the sheriff could have lived his whole life without seeing melissa’s son with his head thrown back as stiles’s mouth is attached to his neck and it’s really fully within his parental rights to just—

call his son’s phone this time.

from his office phone no less, so he can see how the ringtone jolts the boys apart. he can see how stiles tries to wave the interruption away, and he can see how scott nods his head towards the cell, clearly telling stiles to answer it. that earns the boy a few points, actually.

and if the sheriff feels a tiny vindictive joy mixed with the guilt over stiles’s face when he sees it’s the station calling, well so what. he just witnessed the start of a porno starring his own child, shut it.

and when stiles answers

the sheriff simply says

"put your shirts back on and bring scott by the station—we need to talk."


	3. scott/stiles, soulmates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that post going around about soulmates and the world being black and white until you meet yours, then and only then do you see colors

so imagine four year old scott and stiles meeting and everything bursts into color and because they’re so young, they grow up not even remembering a world without it

imagine the people that assume they’re lying about that awesome tree with purple flowers because no one that young can see color

imagine the conflicted feelings their parents have for a multitude of reasons, and maybe stiles’s mom is the only one of the four that is completely happy and accepting of it

imagine them going through life, going through _middle school_ as more or less the only kids that knew what red and yellow and green and blue looked like

imagine how, because they never knew anything else, the full extent of what this means is lost on them, and while they technically get it, it’s not A Thing, it’s just how it is, brothers and best friends forever.

(and then imagine how scott’s world somehow gets even brighter when he meets allison, and how confusing that is for both him AND stiles, though stiles doesn’t really get why

and then imagine how scott’s world goes gray when allison dies.

it takes months before the color beings to slowly seep back in, months of being with stiles, and it’s only then that scott really understands what a big deal this is, this soulmate world-coloring thing because holy shit, he _forgot_ how beautiful everything is, how beautiful stiles looks in vivid shades that used to be the norm

and damn, was his mouth always that pink?)

_imagine *･゜ﾟ･*☆_


	4. scott/stiles, pining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> started on twitter, finished on tumblr

in another universe Stiles says “it was a joke; it wasn’t romantic” about flirting with Scott. He says it with a blip in his heartbeat.

It’s supposed to be a foolproof plan. Flirting under the safe coverage of Just Kidding. He meant to stop after Scott became a lie detector.

But it’s just too ingrained in his DNA; loving Scott. Wanting Scott.

(Scott never mentions the lie he can hear; he thinks Stiles can have this.)

Finally one day after a ‘joke’, Scott says “you don’t have to do that” in the kindest voice, but also as casually as possible.

He doesn’t want to sound like he’s pitying Stiles or anything, after all.

Stiles plays dumb but Scott’s so stubborn when he thinks he’s solving the world’s problems (Stiles knows that’s unfair to think, but).

"Okay so maybe I’d like to make out with you a little. I’d make out with most of my friends!"

He promises to stop making Scott uncomfortable. Scott says he’s fine; it’s Stiles that feels uncomfortable and it kinda hurts to see/feel.

There’s the longest week in the world as Stiles semi-avoids Scott out of awkwardness. Groups are fine but once it’s the two of them…

Stiles makes excuses and bolts. He knew this would happen; he knew he’d ruin everything (even though Scott’s the one that mentioned it!!!).

\-----

Finally, because Scott is Scott, he corners Stiles alone one day. Stiles makes a halfhearted comment about wolves cornering prey that goes completely ignored because Scott’s saying that if it was just that Stiles wanted to make out with all his friends, they could totally do that but he’s pretty sure (he’s positive) that Stiles wants more than that.

Stiles: Come on, don’t—wait, you’d be down for that?  
Scott: :|

Getting back on track, Stiles, still unable to escape to safety, repeats what he said about making Scott uncomfortable. He’ll stop, he knows Scott is too nice to make it a Thing even though he doesn’t feel the same, okay, he won’t joke-flirt anymore.

"Why…why don’t you try real-flirting sometime?"

"What, you mean like with _Lydia_? Scott, buddy, you are really into my pain, aren’t you?” And he says it lightly but Scott zeros right in on the truth there—Stiles is in pain because of him and it’s time to fix it.

"I meant with me."

Because it turns out it’s not that Scott doesn’t feel the same way, exactly. Or, well. He feels the way adjacent to where Stiles is at.

"That makes literally no sense at all but I don’t think I care," is what Stiles says, waiting for more, clutching onto a thread of hope that’s just waiting to fly and be realized.

Sometimes cliches are a good thing, like now, when Scott admits to missing Stiles alone time more than he thought he would—and he always knew he was lost without him anyway so that’s saying something. He missed the way Stiles looked at him; found himself looking back much the same.

He always thought he _would_ be having to let his friend down gently.

But now he kinda wants to try the kissing thing. With real flirting and real feelings and—oh, apparently real tongue.


	5. karma/amy, strikhedonia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”.

It’s a Friday, and probably the worst timing Karma could have gone with. It had taken so long for them to get back to anything remotely resembling their relationship before The Truth Came Out—which is a pun Amy doesn’t seem to appreciate right now. 

But she’s trying to _explain_ and apologize for the aforementioned bad timing and keeping secrets is nothing she ever wants for them again. She remembers, she remembers feeling hurt about the secrets above anything else, and she knows that’s still not exactly fair but—

It had taken them _so long_ to get here again and she hopes she’s not too late. When Amy asks _too late for what?_ Karma starts to begin another ramble, but then decides to just go for it.

_To hell with it._

She lurches forward, hands awkward but sure on Amy’s cheeks, and kisses her best friend. It’s exactly like every other time, and five billion times better.


	6. peter/stiles, gymnophoria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you.

The first time Peter appears from the shadows, Stiles is actually a little surprised. He’s used to the creepy lurking from Hales, yeah, but Peter had been laying low recently.

Which…is probably a really bad sign.

It only lasts the first time, though. If Stiles is anything, he’s ever-vigilant of Peter Hale’s evil doings. And sure, some people may say he’s exaggerating, since all Peter seems to do is show up, stare at Stiles, and leave, but what _isn’t_ ridiculously creepy about that?!

“—and then he throws out some line like a freakin’ _Disney villain_ and _winks_ —ugh, who even winks anymore—”

"You winked at half the class today. Individually," is what Scott chooses to contribute with, so Stiles chooses to ignores it.

"—Creepy old perves, that’s who. I can’t tell if this is all part of his plan or not, and I dunno if that’s better or worse! And—and…" He trails off, both in words and movement.

"Scott."

"Yeah?"

"Am I still wearing clothes?" 

It’s a rhetorical question, of course, not that that keeps Scott from looking concerned as hell before spotting something behind Stiles.

Someone.

"Yes, tragically," and even his voice seems to ooze with smarm and _oh my god, gross_.

"Stop undressing me with your eyes!!" It comes out way more shrilly than wanted.

"Why? It didn’t work." Peter shrugs, then smirks and melts back into the shadows. Even though it’s a sunny afternoon.

Stiles is no longer surprised by Peter Hale’s everything, sure, but he’s most definitely still going to have nightmares.


	7. scott/stiles, tarantism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.

When they were kids, if Stiles was in a particular mood—one stubborn enough to stay gloomy out of pure spite—Scott always ended up doing a silly dance around the room in hopes of making Stiles laugh. Once or twice, even his mom joined in.

(The only time it didn’t work was too soon after the funeral.)

Sometimes there was music on the radio, but most times it was just Scott, a hand on his inhaler as he hopped around, unafraid of looking weird in public if it meant cheering up his best friend. And without fail, Stiles would go from eye-rolling to giggling, though he never really joined in. 

It was more entertaining to watch, he said.

Now, years later, Scott hasn’t silly-danced to distract Stiles since The Night of the Bite, as Stiles sometimes refers to it. In his head, with a spooky-movie-emphasis. And whatever, that’s cool. It’s not like it’s a bedrock in their foundation as friends or anything.

But sometimes, when Scott gets that look on his face—the pinched, hurt-but-hiding-it look that means he’s thinking about all the people he didn’t manage to save…well, Stiles does not live for _that_ look. 

And so one day, after Scott zones out while Stiles is talking about important things (the lunch menu for the next day), he stands up. He tugs Scott up. He ignores the confused look this earns, and starts dancing.

"Stiles, what—"

"Come on, Scotty, let’s dance our troubles away!" 

It’s what Scott used to say every time, a bouncy happy demand that went refused until now. Stiles can see the second Scott remembers, too; that pained expression melting away even for a short while. It’s worth it, it’s _so_ worth the way Scott shakes his head and sighs because it’s _fond_ and it’s _amused_ and it’s kind of the look Stiles lives for.


	8. scott/stiles, buzzcut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Brook's birthday!

There are some things in the universe that just are. Lydia Martin being a beautiful, scary genius is one of them. Peter Hale being a total creepy asshole is another. Junk food being bad for you, but delicious? Yeah, you get the point.

Wait, wait. The _actual_ point is this: Scott McCall being predictable in his hair choices is supposed to be another law of the universe. For as long as Stiles has known him, he’s had various cuts such as floppy. Messy. Unkempt. It was only after the whole werewolf thing that his hair ever got a little shorter, a little more stylish.

But this? This is like a _betrayal_. It’s an undoing of all that is set in stone, and Stiles is _offended_. 

"It’s just a haircut, Stiles…"

"It’s _my_ haircut!” That’s a stupid response, really, since Stiles hasn’t had a buzzcut for awhile now, but still. His world is _rocked_ , here.

Mostly because Scott still looks just as hot, and it’s annoying. Multiple people have told Stiles that he’s less offensive to their visual senses with more hair (that was great for his self-esteem) but here’s Scott, standing there with a shaved head, still looking like the star of all of Stiles’s wet dreams.

…Which is a saying. Just a turn of phrase, nothing literal or anything.

"Maybe I just wanted to be like you," Scott says with a grin, rubbing a hand over his scalp, and even that looks cooler than whenever Stiles did it. 

"And that’s a very smart decision, but you couldn’t have warned me?"

Scott actually cocks his head.

"It looks that bad?"

It doesn’t sound like Scott’s sense of self will be crushed if Stiles totally _lies_ and says he looks like an idiot or anything, but somehow what comes out is a little _too_ truthful.

"You look stupidly hot, Scott! You couldn’t have big ears or something, huh?" He waves an arm at Scott’s everything, taking in his friend’s stupid happy smile and stupid fuzzy head. "Bet it’s softer, too," he adds in a mumble. 

Scott shakes his head instantly. “Yours was total peach fuzz, dude; it was awesome. Here.” He grabs Stiles’s hand and just plops it right on top of his head.

And, well. Since he’s already there.

Instead of a playful rub, Stiles’s touch is slow, almost a caress. His hand sweeps down to the nape of Scott’s neck, the pad of his thumb brushing the shell of Scott’s ear. His heart thumps in his veins. 

"It’s softer," he says, all the fight gone from his voice, and keeps his hand still.


	9. stiles/malia; pre-OT3 not!fic

so one day malia asks out of nowhere “okay, what’s with you and lydia?”

and stiles is genuinely confused because a) he was in the middle of explaining some kind of econ problem and b) lydia’s nowhere around, so he asks what on earth malia’s talking about.

"you can sleep with her if you want," is all she says, which of course makes stiles nearly inhale the pen he’s been chewing on. 

he denies, he’s totally over her, he loves malia, etc etc. malia is not an idiot and can pick up on ~things~ so she doesn’t let it drop, and finally, FINALLY stiles gives…an abbreviated version of his history with lydia. and how that has zero to do with their relationship right now so drop it please!!

malia’s not super concerned with monogamy and its importance in society, so she just keeps at it.

"i’m serious, you can totally have sex with her sometime. would it make you more comfortable if i were there too?"

"oh my god could you just—wait, what."

heterosexuality and its importance to society? yeah, also not so important to malia. she knows lydia’s attractive. she’d be into it.

anyway, time goes on, stiles has quickly come to terms with the idea of a threesome with the two hottest girls in his life (magnanimous of him, really) but he’s pretty sure it’ll never happen. 

the idea still gets talked about a lot. in bed, mostly.

BLAH BLAH BLAH sometime much later, out of nowhere, malia asks, “so what’s with you and scott?”

(that takes even longer for stiles to admit to. it’s okay. malia can work with this.)


	10. scott/stiles; fix-it fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for LC, who was having a bad day

It’s difficult to pinpoint the exact moment Scott wakes up. It might’ve been when the last bit of breath left his body, red eyes fading along with it. But it might’ve been later, when his mother demanded he sit up and roar his way back to life. 

It’s difficult to pinpoint, because when Scott wakes up, he’s gasping for air, terrified and unable to really think about the details just yet. No, that comes a few minutes later, when Stiles turns onto his side, announcing his own wakefulness by taking Scott’s hand in his.

“S-sorry…didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Stiles doesn’t reply to that, because he knows Scott can sense the _don’t be an idiot_ radiating off him in waves already. Instead he just asks, “what was it about?”

In rare occasions, Stiles can be patient. He’s quiet, allowing Scott the time he needs to put the words together. Both of them are no stranger to nightmares, but this one was weirdly involved, almost like their lives were a TV show and Scott had been forced to watch–and live through it.

But he explains. He tells Stiles about their senior year, about how so much shit happened that pushed the two of them apart, and Scott thought they’d never be okay again. He tells Stiles about the creepy steampunk looking bad guys, about Kira losing control. 

Scott talks and talks, trying to remember every detail, and by the time he’s done, the sun’s starting to rise. That makes it just a little easier to mention that he was actually killed, and that’s where Stiles’s pact of silence breaks.

“What the fuck?! Theo _killed_ you?? The next part of that dream better have been me going to kill _him_ because there’s no way–” 

For the first time since waking up, Scott smiles. 

“–and seriously, I don’t even know who Theo is, but–”

“Dude. Theo Raeken. From fourth grade?”

Stiles goes silent, squinting in thought. Why Scott dreamed about someone they haven’t seen since elementary school is beyond him, but it seems to make Stiles (more) suspicious. “I never liked that guy.”

Scott snorts a laugh. He wants to disagree, wants to remind Stiles of the times he and Theo totally got along in class, but it’s more important for him to scoot closer to the other, trying oh so subtly to burrow into the heat of Stiles’s body. Ever perceptive, Stiles drops his ranting, buries his anger, and wraps an arm around Scott.

“Hey. It’s okay. It was just a dream. Just a really…scarily detailed dream. I’m not going anywhere, and you’re not going anywhere, okay? You and me, we’re solid. We’re _it_.”

Scott nods, trying to believe it. It’s easier to, here where it’s safe. 

Just as seriously, just as sincerely, Stiles belatedly adds, “will it help if I blow you now?”

It’s silent for a full thirty seconds before Scott says, humor in his tone, “couldn’t _hurt_.”

It’s true; it doesn’t.


End file.
